Callan’s POV
Removing the pilot suit stretched into an eternity. Each seal released with agonizing slowness under the techs’ hands. Though the worst of the neural disconnection had subsided, allowing my mind to function again, anxiety gnawed deep as the techs moved through their post-mission protocols. Everyone on the platform avoided my eyes, their usual congratulatory banter replaced by tense silence.
A muscle spasm shot through my arm, fierce enough to make me clench my jaw. The familiar throb at the base of my skull matched my heartbeat. My fingers reflexively brushed the cool, metallic ridge of the port embedded there. Each pulse pulled my attention to the worried faces around me.
They were the same faces I’d seen the day I left Eden. Nobody had said a word as I packed my few belongings. My mother’s blue eyes—so much like my own—had been glassy with unshed tears. She couldn’t understand why I’d trade paradise for hell, a place that had everything when the rest of humanity suffered.
My father had resigned himself to my decision after hours of arguing. That final night, he’d found me staring at the stars visible through Eden’s thin atmospheric shield.
“You know if you leave, they won’t let you come back,” he’d said, forcing the words past a knot in his throat. “The council can’t risk the location being compromised.”
“I know.”
“Then why? What’s out there that’s worth throwing all this away?”
I’d turned to him then. “How can we hide here while everyone else suffers? How can I… exist when I could fight?”
He didn’t know about the nightmares. I was sixteen again, showing him the cliffs overlooking the ocean, wanting to see something real beyond Eden’s borders. Frozen with fear when the Nephilim came out of the surf. It ripped through him because we were exposed, because I took him there. The creature had been smaller than the one I’d killed today, but back then, it had seemed like a mountain of teeth and claws. I’d watched, helpless because of my own recklessness. Never again.
My father had been quiet for a long moment, then squeezed my shoulder. “You’re just like your gramps, you know. My father never could stand being caged either, even in a gilded one.” His eyes had softened. “I’ll miss you, son. But I’d never forgive myself if I stopped you from being who you’re meant to be.”
The next morning, they’d watched me go like they were attending my funeral. They were mourning another young life full of promise, lost to the war.
Now, standing on this platform with everyone’s judgment bearing down on me, those memories surfaced like ghosts. I’d chosen this path, chosen duty over sanctuary. And somehow, that choice had led me to Leo.
I wanted nothing more than to sprint from this platform and confirm he was alright. That I was not chasing a ghost anymore. This time, no rule would stop me. Consequences didn’t matter. Not my rank, not Rivera’s authority, not the goddamn chain of command. I couldn’t fail someone like that again.
When the techs finally released me, I bypassed the usual post-mission cool-down and debriefing protocols entirely. Stripped down to briefs after the suit removal, I moved quickly to the locker assigned near the platform, ignoring the dull ache spreading through my limbs.
I ran a hand through my dirty blond hair, wincing as my fingers snagged on the sweat-matted strands. I grabbed my clothes—dark cargo pants, a plain white shirt. Pulled them on quickly. Stamped my feet into worn combat boots, not bothering with the laces for now. Finally, I shrugged on my jacket, the familiar weight settling on my shoulders. Dressed, I turned and strode through the base’s corridors, ignoring the numbness spreading from my fingertips up my arms.
The faint blue lights reflected off the polished steel walls, creating distorted, wavering images that shifted with each step I took. Overhead, pipes snaked along the ceiling, carrying power, water, and oxygen—the essential lifelines feeding the massive structure.
The base had been built within the natural cave systems of the harbor cliffs and expanded and reinforced over the decades. Even though the corridors were quieter at night, the underground fortress never slept. Soldiers and techs bustled through, checking systems and maintaining the defenses that kept humanity alive.
A few night-shift personnel nodded as I passed, offering perfunctory “Lieutenant” acknowledgments and congratulations on “another successful mission.” Their words rang hollow. They had no idea what victory cost. Today might have been another notation in a logbook for them, but for the people who lost everything in Dome City Eight, tonight marked the beginning of yet another nightmare.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I approached the medical bay. I paused outside the sliding doors, trying to get a grip. I couldn’t barge in acting like a desperate man, no matter how anxious I felt about Leo.
The medical bay doors slid open. Inside, the faint scent of antiseptic mingled with the sound of old jazz. A slow, melancholic trumpet tune emerged from a speaker near the main counter, filling the air with a gentle sound. Behind the counter, Martha, the night shift receptionist, tapped her fingers in rhythm with the music. She offered me a brief, knowing smile as I entered.
“Well, now, look who’s walking by,” she said. “Heard you brought in another handsome young man, too. Always nice to see a new face around here.”
Normally, I would have stopped to trade a few words. Martha had a way of making even this sterile corner feel less bleak. But not tonight. Tonight, every second felt borrowed, every nerve frayed. I only nodded at her, as my focus had already shifted deeper into the room.
The jazz faded into the background. I headed towards the solid door of Ava’s private office on the far side. As I stepped closer, the door retracted into the wall without a sound. Ava was at her desk, fingers flying across the holographic interface of her computer. Lines of data scrolled and reflected in her glasses.
When she noticed me in her office doorway, her expression soured immediately. She removed her rectangular frames, setting them beside her tablet, then pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes before letting out a long, exasperated sigh.
“I really didn’t want to see your face again tonight,” she grumbled, not bothering to disguise her irritation.
I felt no shame as I leaned against the metallic wall near the door. I tapped my knuckles against the surface, attempting to conceal the trembling that had already begun. The shakes were setting in faster than usual, the neural strain from the rushed disconnection taking its toll on my body.
“How is he?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral despite the concern churning inside me.
Ava pressed her hands over her mouth in a plea and looked directly into my eyes. “How is he? Eh? Why, Callan? Why did you do it? Why the fuck did you bring him here?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with how she was looking at me. Not with how unsettled she seemed.
“You don’t even know what you just did!”
Her words hammered against my already hypersensitive nervous system. I refused to flinch as the sound reverberated painfully in my ears. It had been years since I’d heard her voice crack like that. Not since the day she learned about her husband six years ago.
Ava grabbed fistfuls of her hair, squeezing as she fought to contain her anger. She stood and stormed toward me, stopping inches away. Her finger jabbed into my chest as she glared up at me.
“I know you have a fucking death wish. I see it in your eyes every time you come back from a run in the Valkyrie. And today, at least, I saw something different when you arrived with Leo, but bringing him here? You’ve damned him along with yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, straightening despite the white-hot pain radiating up my spine. “I don’t have a death wish.”
Ava laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Please. Every time you push Valkyrie past its limits, every time you rush a neural disconnection…” She pointed at my hands, which betrayed me with their constant trembling. “You think nobody notices?”
“Because I’m tired of seeing fucking people die!” I snapped, my voice echoing against the white metal walls. “I’m tired of the Resistance doing nothing else for the people trapped out there.”
“What else can we do? There are monsters roaming outside and worse inside!” Ava shot back. “You grew up in Dome Two, Callan. The second oldest dome, where crime runs rampant. You are supposed to be used to this.” She shook her head in disbelief.
Dome City Two. The official record. A fiction bought and paid for the day I walked away from Eden, a stack of untraceable energy credits passed under a table—credits obtained through Eden’s carefully hidden channels, converting resources the outside world barely remembered existed. That illegal transaction, smoothed over by some corrupt official in Dome Two’s crumbling administration center, erased my origins. Replaced them with a fabricated history that painted me as another piece of disillusioned youth escaping a broken dome.
Ava thought she knew me, but she only knew the lie the Resistance believed.
She dropped her gaze, shoulders slumping. “The kid in there? He was better off in that collapsing dome.”
Then her eyes flicked up, full of something close to regret, like she already wished she hadn’t said it. She straightened and turned away, crossing to her desk without another word.
I watched her go, confusion tightening in my chest, mingling with the old weariness of the secrets I carried.
“Ava, wait.” I kept my words low. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. I’d bitten the inside of my cheek during a tremor without realizing it. “I rescued Leo. I broke protocol doing it; I know that. I know there will be consequences, but what am I missing here?”
Her cheeks were flushed, a deep red mottling her skin. Her eyes looked wet, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let any tears fall. She kept her focus averted. “You will find out soon enough.”
She faced her desk again, picking up her tablet. I tried to imagine what could be worse than the Nephilim, worse than the collapsing domes, worse than letting someone die. My mind went blank. I could not understand the nature of the threat she hinted at, the one I had supposedly brought into the base along with Leo. Only one image surfaced in my mind: Rivera’s smile paired with Dr. Shawn’s unsettling stare. The memory of it twisted my gut with foreboding.
“I need to run some scans on your brain activity,” Ava said. The fury in her expression didn’t vanish, but it receded, replaced by a strained, wary professionalism. Still, I saw a slight tremor in her hands as she adjusted the tablet settings for the scan. She finished but avoided my eyes, clearly expecting me to accept the change of subject.
“You didn’t answer me, Ava. How. Is. Leo?”
My firm tone seemed to cut through her anger. She finally looked at me.
“He’s okay,” she clipped out. “We checked all his vitals and ran some quick labs.” Her professional tone couldn’t quite mask the concern underneath. “He needs proper nutrition. His body is severely depleted. Probably hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks.”
She tapped something into the tablet. “We administered a concentrated vitamin serum and some fluids. His system was so rundown that he’s out cold now. It’s not anything we gave him—” she trailed off, eyes flicking to her screen, then back to me. “Anyway, his body finally succumbed to exhaustion. The malnutrition isn’t helping, either.”
The knot in my stomach loosened.
“We also cleaned him up,” she continued, meeting my eyes squarely now. “He’s stable, Callan. Stable enough to be moved to your quarters whenever you’re finished letting me scan your potentially damaged brain.” She glanced pointedly at the chair. “Which reminds me, I need to pick Jimmy up from night care soon; thanks to this unscheduled pickup of yours, I’m working overtime.”
Feeling relief swept over me about Leo’s condition, I didn’t protest the scan any further. It was routine after piloting the Valkyrie, especially after a rushed neural disconnection like today’s. I pushed off the wall, and I gave a curt nod, settling into the diagnostic chair as she approached with the scanning equipment.
